<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Consuming you by LieutenantCommando</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111160">Consuming you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantCommando/pseuds/LieutenantCommando'>LieutenantCommando</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Fanart, Graphic Description, Gross, Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov References, M/M, Metamorphosis, Mild Gore, No Sex, Pining, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:01:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantCommando/pseuds/LieutenantCommando</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From the small trailer window, he could see Bill Denbrough for a brief moment during the early morning.</p>
<p>Bill’s cheeks were sprinkled with freckles, little constellations adorning the silky skin, and Robert would sacrifice himself to the heavens and every entity up there for a chance to kiss and connect the adorable brown points with his fingers, with his tongue.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>What if IT was an asshole alien that possessed Robert? </p>
<p>Please read the tags, this is a rather dark fic with a rather dark fanart. </p>
<p>Art is mine. TW for bones.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Denbrough/Pennywise, Bill Denbrough/Robert "Bob" Gray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Consuming you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Whumptober got me by the foot this year l o l Lots of prompts were used and I tried to keep as many things from canon as possible.</p>
<p>Thanks to all my lovely friends who supported me during this!</p>
<p>And now it has a Russian translation, by my amazing friend Sakurairo! Check it out <a href="https://ficbook.net/readfic/10231740?fbclid=IwAR07hdpSrjhW04_-EZjN-K2y0Pn6GRn7YmiIE3gChsCYFTTUSo2d7uXttes">here!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>From the small trailer window, he could see Bill Denbrough for a brief moment during the early morning, as he headed to school, and then again, hours later, after he was released from his responsibilities and went either home or some place with his friends.</p>
<p>Robert liked to watch quietly from his makeshift home, knowing by heart Bill’s schedule and dutifully glimpsing the teenager each and every day, adding simple words to his ever growing notes as a manner of not forgetting Bill; his outfits, his overall mood, his beauty.</p>
<p>The teenager had red hair that glowed a beautiful amber tone under the sun. He kept it short, but with bangs long enough to almost hide his eye in a way that made Robert’s heart ache and tremble; oh, how he wanted to run his fingers in those locks, feel their texture and maybe burn himself in their intoxicating color...</p>
<p>Bill’s cheeks were sprinkled with freckles, little constellations adorning the silky skin, and Robert would sacrifice himself to the heavens and every entity up there for a chance to kiss and connect the adorable brown points with his fingers, with his tongue.</p>
<p>Bill’s lips were plumpy, becoming a shade of delicious red whenever the teenager worried on them with his teeth. Robert, if given the chance, would do the same thing, biting on his lips, slowly, lovingly, then using the opportunity to suck and lick Bill’s delectable mouth.</p>
<p>Robert had dreamed countless times of cradling Bill Denbrough in his arms and kissing him silly until both were breathless and tingling with need.</p>
<p>But he was an outcast, ruined by his oddly long limbs, lazy eye and bulbous head, deemed to work in the freak show, the only place that would, and could, accept someone like him.</p>
<p>His place was in the shadows or behind the clown makeup, where his anomalies could pass as funny and quirky, while Bill was outside, bathing under the sun, laughing and living, both in the real world and in the dreams of Pennywise, the dancing clown.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Robert didn’t have many memories of his childhood.</p>
<p>His parents’ faces were a blur and he preferred it like that, since it made the illusion of meeting them again both a distant hope and something he held close to his heart, after all, they could be anyone, they could be no one. Doting or neglectful, warm or distant, farmers or refugees from a distant country. Anything that Robert was willing to entertain.</p>
<p>In his own privacy, during the lonely nights, Robert liked to give them good qualities and imagine a nice, comfortable life with his supposed family. He had already learned that it was a bad idea sharing those fantasies, even with those surrounding him; people were very capable of being hurtful and he was tired of hearing how he was probably abandoned like an unwanted dog.</p>
<p>He was tired of having his comfortable and loving scenarios being torn apart by cutting words and sometimes a kick, a punch or a shove, all punctured by how much of a freak he was for daydreaming and daring to give voice to such delusions.</p>
<p>So he learnt to keep to himself. And he grew like this, learning to enjoy his own company and be wary of others.</p>
<p>Robert’s journey in school was short lived, too, for every day he went back to his foster home with a new nasty story or scar to record in his old, falling apart notebook.</p>
<p>The horror collection expanded and with that, Robert’s own dark feelings too.</p>
<p>He knew his appearance was unusual, knew he didn’t quite fit in, but nothing could justify all the disgusting things happening. Not the suicidal notes left in his desk, not the repulsed looks thrown in his direction, not the beating, not the public shaming, not the blind eye that all adults turned on him.</p>
<p>Before finishing high school, Robert dropped. Before he could complete another month in foster care, he ran away and never looked back.</p>
<p>There were no regrets in his heart.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The idea of joining the freak show had been shoved in his face countless times along the years.</p>
<p>His bunny teeth completed the bizarre look, he was told. He could be caged and displayed as some rare and odd animal, grunting to amaze and weird people out, surviving off scraps thrown in his enclosure.</p>
<p>It terrorized him.</p>
<p>Freedom was the only thing Robert truly possessed and the prospect of losing it sent unpleasant shivers down his spine, but at the same time, deep down, he knew the circus would be his best bet in finding a home and acceptance.</p>
<p>He wasn’t wrong, but also not entirely right.</p>
<p>Robert found the trailers where the circus crew stayed after asking for information. It wasn’t hard, not when the cars were painted bright colors and stood in an open clearing. It was like they wanted to be found by any wandering eyes.</p>
<p>With no prospect of any future and too many demons in his past, the circus truly seemed like his best option.</p>
<p>Feeling nervous, the then teenager asked for a chance to stay.</p>
<p>Soon Robert would find out that there was no cage to him, in fact, he’d figure out that he did have a bright future at the spectacle.</p>
<p>He shone as a clown. He made children laugh, he attracted crowds and applause and chorus of “encore” reverberating the big tent.</p>
<p>The circus truly became his home, but Robert knew that the acceptance only came in very specific hours; with his costume gone, it also almost disappeared.</p>
<p>People preferred Pennywise, with his cheery laugh and silly dances. After a while, Robert started to prefer him too, finding life easier when his nose was painted red and he was allowed to walk among everyone, drawing curious looks, instead of hateful ones, making others smile, instead of running away.</p>
<p>The clown was his mask, his getaway to happiness, and it was in one of his presentations that he saw William Denbrough, beautiful, radiant Bill, sitting with a group of kids around his age, clapping and smiling, baby blue eyes twinkling with wonder.</p>
<p>Robert had felt attraction towards other people before, but never like that. The pull his heart felt towards the red haired boy almost made him forget his surroundings and walk straight to Bill.</p>
<p>He’d drop to his knees, he’d hold Bill’s hands and implore for something, <em>anything</em>: a kiss, a hug, a chance.</p>
<p>But he had to refrain, and while he hastily walked away before he could give in to his own impulses, Robert finally understood what the romances meant by love at first sight.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Finding information about Bill wasn’t difficult. Derry was a small city and people enjoyed some gossip. Robert just had to ask to dig up some facts.</p>
<p>The Denbrough boy was the older son of a rotted marriage. He had a bicycle that seemed to be his most precious possession and he walked with a group called “losers”.</p>
<p>An outcast then, just like Robert, but for different reasons.</p>
<p>Bill had a stutter since he was a young kid due an accident, which explained his lack of popularity, after all, kids could be extremely cruel. Robert, more than anyone, knew it, but in the quietness of his free time, the man daydreamed of hearing Bill’s stammer and assure him that it wasn’t a flaw, but adorable to hear.</p>
<p>He wanted to talk to the boy, walk with him, buy him gifts, make him smile again.</p>
<p>It was foolish, Robert knew; how could he have fallen so hard for someone he barely knew? And way younger at that? Maybe people were right, after all, he was a freak, his brain didn’t work how it ought to, his screws were loose and something was amiss with his very soul.</p>
<p>With it all in mind, Robert Gray decided to mash all his feelings together and lock them away.</p>
<p>He had no idea, however, that such emotions would find fertilized soil in his insides and grow fastly, spreading wildly like weed, taking root deeply in his heart.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>If asked, he had moved his trailer closer to the street to have more sun warming his windows.</p>
<p>If asked, he just enjoyed walking to the barrens and the standpipe in very specific hours.</p>
<p>If asked, he was merely curious about the Denbrough family.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Watching from afar, Robert saw Bill going from comfortable shirts and shorts to jackets and jeans as the seasons changed.</p>
<p>It was with mild surprise that the clown noticed how close halloween was approaching in the calendar, and a few days before the celebration, it happened. The earthquake.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been mild, enough to make the plates and cups rattle inside the cupboard and knock down a few books lazily placed on top of his desk. It was also enough to bring the entire circus from inside their trailers once the tremors had stopped.</p>
<p>“Something fell from the sky!” Robert heard one of his fellow coworkers say.</p>
<p>In his stupor, he had half the mind to pay attention to his surroundings, but once he looked to the direction being pointed at, surely enough, smoke billowed up, painting the sky a dull grey.</p>
<p>“I think it was a meteorite or something,” The rocks that travelled across space and sometimes fell on Earth by some accident. Robert had read about them, as he had read about a great deal of many other things.</p>
<p>His fellow companions started to talk about it, then, especially about how much they could make by selling the stuff to some collector or enthusiast.</p>
<p>Soon, a small group was formed and they marched to where the meteorite was.</p>
<p>Robert wasn’t so sure about the whole plan, but he joined nonetheless, walking on grass and dirt, kicking the occasional pebble until they reached the crater.</p>
<p>For such a small earthquake, the hole left behind was huge.</p>
<p>Smoke still snaked around, making it impossible to properly see, but it didn’t stop them to approach cautiously, a sense of weariness suddenly settling on their shoulders.</p>
<p>Something was wrong.</p>
<p>Robert felt his muscles constrict and his stomach did a weird turn.</p>
<p>Something was <em>wrong</em>.</p>
<p>He needed to get out of there. Immediately. Fucking <em>now</em>.</p>
<p>A sharp pain on his right leg made Robert double on himself, crashing hard on his side while a cry worked its way inside his throat.</p>
<p>He gagged, saliva clogging the passage of air and for an agonizing moment he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t move while the pain spread like poison in his insides, lacerating his leg and going through his groin, gripping at his intestines and ripping his lungs apart.</p>
<p>
  <em>He couldn’t breathe.</em>
</p>
<p>The taste of his own blood lied on his tongue, his body was cracking in the middle, a hole being dug by something sharp that moved in his entrails, desiccating his abdomen, breaking his bones with sickening and loud noises. Pop. Pop. <em>Pop.</em></p>
<p>He was going to die. A horrific, painful, pitiful death.</p>
<p>Deaf to the shouting from his peers, his vision blackening while blood poured from his mouth, the last thing Robert saw was Bill’s face, a warm smile adorning his features.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p><br/>
When he came to himself, Robert felt a dull ache in his head. One of his eyes throbbed, and slowly, he spread his quivering hands all over his torso.</p>
<p>It was there, whole.</p>
<p>He came to the realization that he was alive, breathing, and with a jolt, he sat on what turned to be his own bed and inspected his body.</p>
<p>The soft skin of his stomach was intact, not gnawed from the inside by some ravenous animal, like Robert had felt before, hours, maybe days before…He had no idea how much time had passed since the “accident”, or even if it had truly happened.</p>
<p>Throughout his inspection, rushing worried fingers all along his limbs, discarding every piece of clothing messily in the ground, Robert became more and more convinced that the whole thing had been nothing more than a nightmare, a very gruesome one.</p>
<p>He sat on his mattress for a while, just breathing.</p>
<p>Outside, he could hear his coworkers talking and getting ready for the night presentation, which brought back a sense of normalcy that helped Robert calm down.</p>
<p>When he was feeling less panicked, the man stumbled to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of his own reflection.</p>
<p>His eyes. They weren’t blue anymore. Instead, an ominous yellow glowed in his bloodshot sclera.</p>
<p>The cold sensation gripped at his stomach once again and he stepped closer to the mirror.</p>
<p>A trembling finger touched the skin just under his lower eyelid and he felt it <em>sink in.</em></p>
<p>With horror, Robert watched his own face cave in, a hole opening and revealing the bone underneath while blood poured from the wound.</p>
<p>He trembled badly, a choked scream abandoning his lips as he violently threw himself away from the mirror, hitting against the cool wall of his bathroom in repulsion of his own image, and it was when he felt <em>it</em> worming inside his skull.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>There was something in his head, in his body.</p>
<p>This other, this <em>thing</em> was roaming all around his mind, Robert could feel it's dark presence touching every single memory, pressing against his brain and obliging him to remember.</p>
<p>He felt like puking, he felt his cranium was about to explode in many little pieces, but even that seemed better than to have some kind of parasite clawing in his insides.</p>
<p>Robert tried to scream, holding his head with both hands and digging his nails desperately. He wanted it out. Get it Out. Get this fucking thing <em>out!</em></p>
<p>With an anguished cry, he crashed his forehead against the wall, once, twice, until big blotches of blood splattered the place and his vision darkened.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Robert came back perhaps ten minutes later, laying on a puddle of his own tears, spit and blood.</p>
<p>Breathe in, breathe out.</p>
<p>It was still there, he could tell.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It had a consciousness of its own. It jumbled their thoughts together, it let him know that it had come from another place, way beyond Earth and above the fabrics of Robert’s reality.</p>
<p>It was old and powerful and hungry. It needed to eat.</p>
<p>Breathe in, breathe out.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Robert had been the closest to it upon its arrival, thus chosen as a vessel, but it had liked his memories, his life. He could be useful, he could attract easy prey with his funny dances and jokes, after all, it needed to eat.</p>
<p>
  <em>Breathe in. Breathe out.</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please, stop...” Robert mumbled weakly, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to accept that his mind wasn’t only his own anymore.</p>
<p>Some otherworldly entity could hear his every thought, feel every sensation running through his limbs.</p>
<p>Panic slowly climbed his throat despite his best efforts to remain calm.</p>
<p>It, this being that had taken residence under his skin, had been mutating his body.</p>
<p>The wounds that had marred his face faded. They didn’t hurt any more. The scars from old fights that marked his story disappeared right underneath his trembling fingers, while new ones sprouted from his hands, his arms, like vines wrapping around his frail limbs.</p>
<p>It didn’t hurt, not when It didn’t want to.</p>
<p>Those blemishes, and the lack of them, were a sign, a show of power; It had control of his body. It could make him morph, break his bones and tear his skin until what was standing before the mirror didn’t resemble a man at all, but some other animal, other being, black in shape and in essence, though Robert still fought to keep at least a whisper of his humanity.</p>
<p>All his life he had been accused of not being human, but now he had less ways of proving them wrong.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He skipped the presentation that night altogether.</p>
<p>People believed him when he whispered from his closed door that he was still way too sick, but once the lights were on and the carnival music echoed across the fields, Robert felt it. The hunger.</p>
<p>He had tried to ignore it, his squirming insides, the being travelling in his thoughts. But he was no more than a mere puppet, both to his basic needs and to It.</p>
<p>Every living creature needs to eat, the monstrous thing whispered, and kept coming up with excuses even when Robert finally gave in and stumbled in the night, following the sweet scent of popcorn and candies.</p>
<p>Never would he have guessed that his nose was being guided not by food, but by a child. Alone, lost, scared.</p>
<p>We need to eat.</p>
<p>The whisper of humanity diminished to a murmur as Robert found his body moving towards the kid.</p>
<p>It was controlling his sharp teeth and elongated nails, but It didn’t make him enjoy the process. No, this had come from himself. In some twisted way, that had been the best meal his tongue had ever tasted.</p>
<p>His humanity turned into a weak gust of wind then, fluttering all around <em>him</em>, for in the end, for Robert, everything always came down to him, his auburn hair, his bright eyes.</p>
<p>Unknowingly, unwillingly, Bill had become his safe space, his hope for salvation, though Robert wasn’t sure he could be pulled from the abyss his whole being had been sucked to.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t bleed red anymore.</p>
<p>A black substance, thick and shiny as oil squirmed from his wounds.</p>
<p>Little tentacles composed his muscles and they could heal at an astounding speed.</p>
<p>Robert discovered that not even carving his chest with the biggest of the knives could bring him, It, death.</p>
<p>He was immortal in his own way, above guns, fire, poison, but beneath hunger, fatigue and emotions, the ones that were left, anger and love.</p>
<p>Disconcerting as it was, the more It blended in his core, the more Robert saw his own old demons arising, pulled from their shallow graves; he hadn’t forgotten all the beatings, nor his tormentors. The cursing and disgusted stares still lingered, he hadn’t forgiven.</p>
<p>With certain discomfort it became clear that he wasn’t above any other sinner or villain. As the days went by and his struggles to stop It’s meals lessened, Robert started to compare himself to a monster.</p>
<p>Bill remained his only window to redemption, as blurry as the glasses were.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Pennywise, the dancing clown was still a big hit.</p>
<p>Children couldn’t see what he had become under the white powder and the red smile.</p>
<p>To them, his face looked comical, the vermillion reminiscent of cherries or apples, clumsy marks over his cheeks and nose. Not at all bloody, deep cuts that worsened whenever Robert had to smile.</p>
<p>His costume was beyond a farce now, it was a trap, a deadly predator pretending to be all laughs and inoffensive company.</p>
<p>Adults could see beneath the curtains of his show, but It somehow manipulated them to simply forget.</p>
<p>Sometimes it revolted him, how easily he had given up, accepted his fate, how he cried while chewing on pink and young flesh, but kept biting, nonetheless.</p>
<p>When had he become so low that hungriness guided him by the nose...?</p>
<p>Robert wondered if Bill could pinpoint his real face, break his facade. Would he be disgusted, as Robert himself was? Would he run, would he scream, would he cry?</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Food, normal food didn’t attract him anymore. It tasted horrible. It made him want to puke.</p>
<p>He learned how to pretend to enjoy his meals, letting it all sit in his stomach while what he truly craved couldn’t be eaten, not yet.</p>
<p>News about missing children was spreading like wildfire and some locals pointed fingers at them, as if circus was a synonym of criminals.</p>
<p>Robert knew the truth, the pile of toys and childish trinkets grew in his trailer, but he learned how to mask himself.</p>
<p>His own hypocrisy expanded in his throat, tickling and threatening to burst. Burst into tears, into hysterical laughs, into desperation.</p>
<p>How could he let this metamorphose happen... From man to monster, from prey to predator, from weakling to strong.</p>
<p>He no longer needed to fear others, but in his power and its monstrosity, Robert found he feared himself.</p>
<p>He felt like a stranger in his own body, with no way of knowing what he could do, what he was capable of doing.</p>
<p>Would It strip him down of everything he held dear? Would It turn him against his love, his Bill?</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It had played with this scenario, during the quiet times, when Robert was sleeping and all his dreams morphed into carnage.</p>
<p>It showed Bill lifeless, dropped on the floor like an old doll. His hair the color of strawberries, the rich ruby spreading from his lovely locks to his torso, pooling where the rest of his body should be.</p>
<p>In those occasions Robert woke up frantic, panting, though he no longer needed air, worried that he had somehow turned the nightmare into a reality, only to realize that it had all been an illusion.</p>
<p>As time went and Robert’s “I” slowly became an “it”, the visions took a turn to more affable, more bearable.</p>
<p>Bill no longer lied in blood, he was often in a bed, It’s bed, in the trailer, surrounded by fluffy pillows and his hair made pretty twirls in the mattress. He was smiling, willing, happy, open, accepting.</p>
<p>He was in love, he was reciprocating It’s love.</p>
<p>Robert’s willpower hadn’t been great, his spine snapped quite easily, but his adoration, his devotion towards Bill Denbrough, this one transcended, broke all the barriers, became a part of It, too.</p>
<p>And so it became second nature to follow the red haired teenager, hiding in the shadows, sending floating balloons in his directions, allowing only glimpses of It’s tall form.</p>
<p>It was like a game. Would Bill catch It? Would he believe It was more than a mere silhouette? Would It be real enough for him?</p>
<p>Robert still existed in the mass of convoluted thoughts and powers and intents, a feeble, cold, almost dead light, shining in his stubbornness, his yearning for Bill, and it was this, combined with possessiveness that made It interfere.</p>
<p>Acting almost on impulse, It abandoned it’s hideout, leaving the game of cat and mouse behind.</p>
<p>It didn’t want to wait anymore, lurking in the backstage, being a rushed creepy story told to scare or impress.</p>
<p>It was <em>real</em>, so much that Bill woke up in a frenzied state upon feeling It’s long and strong arms involving his still sleepy form.</p>
<p>He didn’t scream. He didn’t run away nor cried.</p>
<p>He stayed, eyes twinkling under the poor nightlight of his room, mind slowing down as he felt It brushing against his thoughts.</p>
<p>It didn’t want a fearful Bill, but a pliant one, to be taken to Its deadlights, to live in Its world for eternity, to be immortal in Its passion and possessivity and love.</p>
<p>To be consumed in pleasure and devotion.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>And so he</p>
<p>Sank.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Derry gained a new missing child poster, while Bill gained access to the stars.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please let me know your thoughts!&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>